


Inequity

by WithAFlickOfHerWand



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Hermione Granger, Death Eaters, Multi, Slytherin Hermione Granger, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9235943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithAFlickOfHerWand/pseuds/WithAFlickOfHerWand
Summary: Hermione Granger is now a Death Eater. Draco Malfoy begins to see Hermione for who she is whilst under the Dark Lord's control and realises that he alone is the key to saving her humanity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first chapter for my first Dramione fic, I hope you guys enjoy it!

The noise from the mass of students who filled the great hall made it near impossible for Hermione to hear more than a few words of the chattering update that began the moment the toad like, old plump lady started the ceremony. 

The lady who was just under five feet tall, beamed brightly at all the students sitting at their house tables. Beside her; sat a timeworn wizard hat, it's leather like appearance distorting the creases and wrinkles to form an undeniably cheeky expression. Hermione exhaled slowly, as she adjusted her posture promptly. "It's rather strange don't you think? How anyone in their right minds would allow this is beyond me." Hermione muttered, allowing the sloppy, lumpy porridge on her spoon to slide off unsatisfingly into a great heap on the side of her plate. 

Ronald however, sat across from Hermione and attempted to grin, his mouth full of scrambled eggs and beans. Harry recoiled slightly, disgusted by the sight of bean sauce dripping pitifully down Ron's chin. "Welcome, welcome." Umbridge greeted, as she whipped her wand out from inside of her sleeve. Almost out of thin air, a long roll of parchment fell into her plump hands. "So for those who are not aware of the current circumstances, the Ministry of Magic has specifically ordered that I, a representative of both Hogwarts and the ministry, conduct a re-sorting ceremony, to guarantee the best success for your O.W.L.S." Umbridge grinned once again, but this time there was no mistaking the deadly silence that cursed the students tongues as they all impatiently waited for this to be revealed as a horrific practical joke. But there were no sounds of laughter, except from the Weasley Twins who had began to bet galleons and sickles on who would be sorted into Slytherin. 

"Luna Lovegood." Umbridge beckoned, placing the sorting hat on her head not so gently. "Brave. Very brave. Oh and clever too. Before you found yourself wishing to be sorted into Ravenclaw, but this time round it'll have to be....Gryffindor!" the hat bellowed, causing Fred and George to cheer extra loudly as she sat down beside Neville, who looked distinctly like a remberall, bright red.

"Draco Malfoy!" The teacher summoned once more, before lifting the sorting hat once again. This time, she didn't even need to place the sorting hat on his head, before it shouted the house that everybody seemed to like the least. A harmonious roar echoed the halls as Malfoy made his way back to his usual table. His fellow Slytherins showered him with praise and Hermione watched as Blaise Zabini slapped his back as a cheerful welcome back. She looked over at the smug blonde, who was twisting his Slytherin ring around his finger. He looked over at her and smirked darkly, before she withdrew her gaze. 

"Ronald Weasley." Umbridge called, watching as the ginger haired boy Hermione had almost grown to love, put down his food and sauntered up to the sorting hat. Once again, the hat spoke without being lifted, placing him in Gryffindor again. 

It was another twenty minutes until Hermione was called. Part of her had hoped that she would be forgotten about in the re-sort, but evidently she was just saved for last. Leaving her books on the table, she began to approach the sorting hat, remembering vividly how the last time he was placed on her bushy eleven year old head, he had reached a standstill. She was certainly intelligent enough to be sorted into Ravenclaw, but with her own wishes accounted for, she was placed in Gryffindor, with her two best friends. 

This time though, Hermione had a sinking feeling that her wishes wouldn't matter. There was something eerie about Umbridge's smirk that made her feel uneasy. The weight of the hat was not exactly comforting either, as he began to whisper. "Brightest witch of your age, you made a wonderful example for Gryffindor, and your thirst for knowledge is most certainly a Ravenclaw trait. However, you cannot ignore the fact that you possess a hidden talent in the Dark Arts. Whilst your grades are high, you are destined for only one fate. In that case, I think the only house best suited for you is Slytherin." He almost shouted the last word. Allowing an unwelcoming silence across the great hall. 

"No. No! That can't be right! Please reconsider!" Hermione begged, but the more she begged, the louder the hat shouted. "You'll be great y'know. Slytherin is perfect for a young witch like you. You will make wonderful friends, a bond that cannot be compared." The hat spoke, before Umbridge lifted the hat and pushed Hermione slightly, guiding her towards the group of Slytherins whose eyes twinkled with disgust. At this point, Hermione sighed and stood beside them. Not one person looked her in the eye after that. Not even her friends.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a very lovely mutual of mine on tumblr loves my plot and the first chapter so i shall continue! Hopefully you guys like it!

Hermione had discovered very quickly that Slytherin was a very misjudged house. It was always percieved as the house of evil, the students were automatically assumed guilty of any offence anyone could think of. It was really no wonder Malfoy was so bitter towards her and her two best friends. They didn't give any Slytherins a chance to prove their worth or loyality before they judged them, assuming any Slytherin to be a blind follower of Voldermort, even though it was more often than not very far from the truth.

On her very first day at Hogwarts, all that time ago, Malfoy had approached Harry, offering him friendship and in return recieved nothing but rejection. When he was sorted into Slytherin, Fred and George had booed him to his table, where he sat in silence and avoided the judgemental glares from the Gryffindor table. He was an eleven year old boy, made to feel unequal for being sorted into the 'evil house'. It was no wonder that he had began to torment the Gryffindor trio, he wanted them to feel the rejection, humilation and hurt he had felt on his very first day. Fair enough, both the parties dished out some pretty hurtful remarks, but nothing struck a chord worse than the term 'mudblood'. It made her breath hitch in her chest, a term that she shouldnt be afraid of, but still she was.

In fact, being in Slytherin wasnt all that bad. The main problem she found was the chill of the common room late into the afternoon, before the fireplace was lit. Of course, Hermione expected the cold, seeing as their common room was in a dungeon, but it still surprised her none the less when a shiver rolled down her spine as she attempted to cosy up in the single green armchair with a book. However, everybody who approached her were more than civil. Which she appreciated.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Within the second week, Hermione had found her new house welcoming. They hadnt ignored her the way her best friends had, in fact, they did quite the opposite. She was barely given two minutes of time to herself without being quizzed on her personal life and her experiences growing up as a Muggle. At first, a lot of people sneered at her when she spoke about her perfectly average childhood and her dentist muggle parents, but the more she opened up, the less menacing they became. They were misunderstood, just as she once felt she was.

Only a small handleful of Slytherins had muggleborn family members, the majority being half-blooded or pure-blooded. Not that it mattered to Hermione what anyones blood status was. Blood didnt define anyones worth or importance, but still she found herself thinking of how differently she might be treated if she was anything more than a Gryffindor 'mudblood'.

 

The small patters of rain were all that could be heard in the dormitory that evening. The rest of the students were happily sleeping away, whilst Hermione laid awake, gazing at the ceiling whilst twiddling her curls between her fingers.   
The distant sounds of thunder were enough to allow the dark, heaviness of undisturbed sleep to wash over her. She was sure she was dreaming when she heard her name being whispered into her left ear. Almost too violently, Hermione swung around, gasping slightly when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

The girl smirking back at her was not someone she recognised, although it should have been. The warm hazel eyes she loved the most about herself were no longer swirling with anticipation. Instead they focused on her accusingly, as if she was a filthy criminal, guilty and charged of her crimes, landing her a lengthy sentence in Azkaban. Hermiones mass of frizzy curls were now large knots, and her usual porcelain skin was stained with dirt and blood. Her reflection smirked, before revealing her left arm to the mirror. Hermione could just make out the dark tattoo, before she awoke in cold sweats. Automatically, she rolled up her sleeve, her fingers tracing delicately over the burning sensation on her forearm. 

 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Two weeks had past since that nightmare. It was nothing more than just an awful dream, but it still made her heart race whenever she thought about it. 

Pansy Parkinson let out a small sigh when she sat beside Hermione that evening in the common room. "You're somewhat intelligent Granger, could you help me with this?" Pansy thrust a piece of incomplete potions homework at her, without making eye contact.   
"Sure." She let out a small sigh, before explaining the side effects of each potion listed. Amortentia was the first, a powerful love potion that smells differently to each person according to what attracts them. Hermione ignored the look on Pansy's face as she looked over her shoulder, resting her gaze on Malfoy and his friends who sat in the corner of the room, laughing about some know it all Gryffindors and it made Hermione sigh happily in relief that they hadnt teased her once since she was sorted into Slytherin. It was as if she belonged.

"You smell him then, huh?" Hermione whispered, before Pansy snatched back her homework out of Hermiones hands. Hermione felt the stone cold glare before she had registered what exactly she had said wrong.   
"I think you'll do well to shut your mouth Granger, before i shut it for you." Pansy barked, before gathering her things and storming off towards the house portrait. The boys in the corner of the room wolf whistled towards Pansy, before she raised her middle finger as she left the room. 

Hermione could pinpoint exactly why she hadn't made any friends in Slytherin so far. She didnt know when to shut her mouth. A trait that had gotten her into quite a bit of trouble for the past five years at Hogwarts, with teachers and students alike.

Harry and Ron barely looked at her the first few weeks, but now they had begun to look at her pitifully across the great hall when it came to breakfast. She was a walking charity case to them, and many other people she had once called her best friends. It made her blood boil at the sight of them, sitting merrily with grins across their stupid faces. Not that she was bitter, mind you.

It took her by surprise when Theo and Blaise sat down beside her, one on either side. They smiled cheekily as they gestured towards her book and then back at her. She was always hidden inside a book, even if her mind was too preoccupied to read more than a few lines. She kept her old judgements of them hidden inside her great vault of a mind that surely challenged Gringotts and greeted them happily. She wasn't in any place to reject any form of friendship.

"Word is that you pissed off Parkinson." Theo began, a smirk crossing his face. "It wasnt intentional!" She snapped, closing her book as she did so. She relaxed her frown almost immediately as she continued. "It was a stupid comment i made." The laugh that bubbled from Blaises throat was apparently infectious, as Theo started to laugh whole-heartedly too. "Its fine Granger, it doesnt take much to piss her off, we're just warning you because..." his voice trailed off, as Pansy sat down across from her with a loud thump, her books knocking over a glass of orange juice. "Granger." Pansy nodded in her direction as a greeting. As she did so, the two boys who sat beside her scurried away like cowards, leaving her as if she was about to be hexed into oblivion. "Pansy look...i'm sorry about what i sa-" she began, but the glare Pansy gave her was enough to make her recoil into the shell she had became without Harry and Ron by her side. "It's fine." Was all that uttered from her mouth, before she began shoveling a spoon full of Pixie Puffs into her mouth. Hermione didnt speak for the rest of the morning, the only execption was the small hello she had near whispered to Luna as they past eachother on the Grand staircase. 

 

A small smile graced her lips as Harry and Ron approached her for the first time in weeks. She greeted them like she always had, but was surprised when they kept their distance, emotionally and physically. It was as if the past five years they had spent together was thrown away without her consent, as they looked at her apprehensively. Nothing had changed, she reminded herself this on an hourly basis. Her morals were still the same as they always were, they were the ones who had looked at her with unease. Sure, she had changed houses, but that didnt mean she wasnt the same Hermione. She reminded herself this as they backed away from her, leaving her standing alone in the middle of one of the many hallways in Hogwarts.

She hadn't changed. Everyone just assumed she had.


	3. Fire Whiskey and Wolf Whistles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bonding session over alcohol can never end well, can it? Hermione doesn't seem to think so, despite how confident it makes her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i really loved writing this chapter, it flew through me naturally and i can't wait for the story to start getting interesting!

The sound of waves hitting the dungeons window alerted Hermione from her stupor. She rolled her shoulders back, ignoring the painful protest her muscles gave in return. Her book laid open in her lap, her bookmark tucked neatly in the middle.   
"Alright?" She heard someone ask from across the room. She looked over her shoulder promptly, her thick mass of frizzy curls bouncing slightly as she turned. Malfoy's small smile assured Hermione that he meant no trouble. 

Hermione nodded, before he took the seat on the sofa parralell from her. This was the first time she had spoken to him since the dreadful ceremony but oddly enough, the fear that used to possess her whole body whenever she saw him had settled into a tiny ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach. He cleared his throat, before he gestured towards her book. 'Most Potente Potions' it read on the binding, the only part of the book preserved to a condition Hermione could potentially tolerate to display if she ever had her own library. "Can't say i've read that one." His eyes flickered with the start of a smile forming on his lips. "It's from the restricted section, Snape allowed me to take it out for light reading between classes." She found herself compelled to be completely honest with Malfoy. She waited for the "Although i have already read it, i took it out in second year." She told him truthfully, watching as he smirked in return. "Of course you did, Granger. The tacky hat was correct i suppose, you do possess a certain quality for the dark arts." He outstretched his hand, and Hermione placed the now closed book into his grip, being extra careful not to brush against his skin with her fingertips.

She internally wondered whether his skin was as soft as it looked, as it honestly looked like the boy was carved out of marble. She quickly thrust those thoughts to the back of her mind, along with the several other thoughts she had about him over the years. He was vile and cruel, and if she thought anything less, she'd be in mighty deep peril.

Malfoy began flipping through the pages nonchalantly, skimming each word and image within seconds. "So, how are Weasleby and Saint Potter?"   
She huffed slightly at the mention of the pair. "Don't know. They won't speak to me." She confessed, a small sadness falling over her at the bitter truth. "Now i'm in Slytherin, i'm obviously a completely different person." She sighed, before a small chuckle erupted from Malfoy. "Of course, you're definitely not the same, snotty nosed brat from Gryffindor." He said sarcasticly, and laughed again when he felt her glare. "It was a joke, Granger." He raised his hands innocently, as she threw the cushion she was sat on at his head. "Well, you're the same big-headed, spoilt twat from Slytherin!" She laughed heartily at his expression. "You've wounded me." He smirked, "No wonder you hate me, i sound like a dick." He winked then, before Theo and Blaise appeared from the portrait hole, a cheeky grin plastered on both of their faces. 

Hermione watched them apprehensively as they slapped Malfoy on the back, causing him to drop the book she had leant him momentarily onto his lap. "You never guess what just happened!" Theo laughed as Malfoy turned to face him. "Pansy just...oh i'll let her tell you herself!" Blaise spluttered, laughing so hard that he clutched his stomach for dear life. "Whatever." Malfoy shrugged, rolling his eyes as he began to flick through the book once more. As if on cue, Pansy entered the common room, her arms crossed over her chest dissaprovingly. Her brows furrowed into a frown before she caught sight of Malfoy sitting closer to Hermione than she'd ever seen them before. A spark of jealousy ignited in her eyes, before she cast a glare in Hermione's direction.   
"Oh c'mon Pans...give it a rest." Malfoy snarled from his seat, he hadn't even turned to face her since she walked in. 

"So which one of you prats is responsible for blowing up my cauldron?" She snapped, before sitting down next to the aristocratic blonde on the sofa. As she shuffled her way past her, purposely seperating the two as much as she could, Hermione noticed the ash that stained her forehead and just under her nose. Hermione finally caught on to why Blaise and Theo were laughing so hard. The black ash had formed to give Pansy a small moustache and monobrow, a look that was hilarious from how well it suited her. Malfoy didn't look away from the pages as Hermione began to snicker slightly. "Whats so funny?!" Pansy snapped, but the more she frowned, the funnier she looked, which led to loud snorts from Hermione as she tried to remain composed. At the sound of Hermione's laugh, Malfoy looked up, only to see Pansy's dirt covered face. Even he began to laugh, a sound that surprised the other students into laughing even harder. Hermione took notice of the hurt that crossed Pansy's face, before she raised her wand. 'Scourgify' she cast aloud, watching as the dirt that covered her face disappeared promptly. "Boo. You're no fun, Granger." Blaise stuck his tongue out before he winked at her. The night went surprisingly fast after that, the five of them laughing at everyones jokes and impressions of eachother with a large bottle of fire whiskey at their disposal. Of course Hermione had shook her head the first three times they offered her the bottle, but on the fourth attempt she shrugged away the good girl demeanour she had been practically famous for, and took three long swigs, cringing slightly as the amber liquid burned it's way down her throat.

Theo didn't even move to imitate Malfoy, he just formed a near perfect disgusted sneer, as if he constantly smelt mouldy milk. "I'm Draco Malfoy, i'm better than all you mudbloods." Theo stuck his nose high in the air, before everyone began to laugh. Hermione didn't even flinch at the word, for the first time since she was introduced to the concept. 

Malfoy then stood up, wobbling slightly as he avoided banging his shins off of the coffee table. "I'm Blaise Zabini, and i uh...have a really big crush....uh...on Hermione...uh" Malfoy snickered as he drew out every word painfully slower than necessary. Blaise's cheeks flushed slightly, before he scowled in Malfoy's direction, avoiding the curious gaze Hermione sent his way.

Pansy stood up next, jutting our her lower jaw and began to pout. "I'm Hermione Granger, a know-it-all swot, i don't have any friends so i'm going to flirt with Pansy's boyfriend to make myself feel better." She laughed loudly, before running her hands through her straight, slick, black bob, causing her hair to become a tousled mess, a clear attempt to insult Hermione's bushy hair. Everyone began to laugh at her impression, except for Hermione, whose eyes threatened to betray her feigned, carefree attitude by beginning to well up with tears. She jumped up next, removing her tie and unbuttoning her shirt enough to show her cleavage. The alcohol had apparently gone straight to her head, leaving Hermione feeling far more confident than usual. "I'm Pansy Parkinson, and i'm the biggest slut in Hogwarts." Hermione announced, before walking over to Blaise and Theo, who sat idly by the fire, too intrigued by Hermione's chest to pay attention to what she was saying. Malfoy's head jerked up, as Hermione sat down on Theo's lap. "Behind Malfoy's back, i've been sleeping with his best friends. But god forbidden anyone even look at my boyfriend." Hermione drawled, as she winked at Blaise. His cheeks darkened again slightly as she did so, before he averted his gaze back down to her unbuttoned shirt. 

Pansy scowled at Hermione, before she stood up. "How dare you?!" Pansy shrieked, as Hermione rose from Theo's lap. Together, the pair looked rather menancing, as they scowled at eachother. "Can you not handle the banter, Pansy?" Hermione smiled sweetly before Pansy launched herself at the girl. Hermione had already dodged out of the way, her wand in hand, watching as Pansy stumbled slightly, from missing her target and the amount of Fire Whiskey she had consumed. Theo and Blaise began to cheer, as Hermione was met with a light slap to her cheek. The minor stinging sensastion flicked a mental switch, as Hermione smacked her right back, with a lot more force than she intended.   
Pansy gasped as she fell backwards slightly, falling into Blaise's outstretched arm, a hand clutched to her flushed red cheek.

Malfoy stood up then, restraining Hermione from behind. "C'mon Granger, calm down." He muttered into her ear, as she continued her struggling at the sound of his voice.   
Pansy scoffed as she looked at Malfoy embracing Hermione, in what could have been a romantic hug from behind. In return, she planted a long, passionate kiss on Blaise's mouth, much to Malfoy's distaste. He finally loosened his grip on Hermione and turned to follow her as she stormed out of the portrait hole.

She raked her hands through her fringe in frustration as she began to pace the halls. What had gotten into her?! She felt the sharp, accusing glare from Malfoy before she heard him. "Well...remind me to never allow you to drink anything but fruit juice." He chuckled, shrugging when she scowled at him. "I can handle my drink perfectly fine, Malfoy." She folded her arms across her chest before frowning once again. "Of course you can Hermione, hence why you just bitch slapped Parkinson." He sneered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Who knew, you of all people would finally set Parkinson in her place?" He shook his head, "You can't make this shit up." He laughed again, before he found himself gazing at her unbuttoned shirt. He stepped forward, only several inches between them.

He brushed a soft curl off of her cheek, before tangling his hands in her hair, pulling her even closer to him. His lips met her forehead for only two seconds, before he pushed her away. His hands began to tremble as he felt himself raising his fingers to his lips. He had actually kissed her. Not on the lips of course, he would never do that. Not with anyone. Clearly the Fire Whiskey had more of an effect on him than he had first thought, because his thoughts and feelings towards her were bordering insanity. 

The girl who stood before him was the same girl who had challenged him for the past five years, with grades and everything that he was taught to hate as a child. She was a perfect student, a perfect friend and probably a perfect daughter to the perfect family. He was positive that her muggle, dentist parents didn't value the life of a mysterious dentist lord more than their own child. She was muggleborn yes, but that hardly seemed to matter at this point. She had proved her worth as a witch, which disturbed Draco the most, as all he had hoped for her, even on their first day meeting, was that she got the hell out of that school. That she got out before they came for her. 

He withdrew quietly back to the common room, leaving the girl who made his insides wreak havoc, alone in the corridor. He knew what was to happen, he had overheard his parents talking about it over the summer, but he could not find the courage to warn her. He was always too much of a coward when it came to that girl.


	4. Madness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The breaking point of Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i have written and rewritten this chapter so much that i have been neglecting posting it for a month! I'm so sorry but hopefully you'll enjoy it!

She brought her hand up to tenderly touch the spot where Draco had kissed her, and was sorely disappointed when the lingering burn slowly started to evaporate. The events that had happened tonight was so out of character for Hermione that she started to panic, her breathing became shallow as the flutter of butterflies that had gathered in her stomach began to dart relentlessly into her sides. She quickly fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, before sliding her back down the dungeon wall, the back of her shirt catching against the jagged stones. She massaged her temples slightly, trying to alleviate the pressure that had built up as she tried to comprehend her actions, but no amount of kneading her tender skin could erase the guilt she had felt for slapping Pansy and letting Draco kiss her, even if it wasn’t a particularly romantic gesture.

She couldn’t quite understand why he had kissed her at all. She was everything he despised, yet apparently, she had some redeeming quality inside of her that outweighed her blood status. She quietly let the confusion seep out of her eyes in the form of tears, before resting her head back against the wall. How did she end up in this ridiculous situation?

She debated about what her Dad would say in this situation, if he said anything at all. When she was a young child her father really was her best friend, but when she left for Hogwarts, her dad never embraced their bond the way she had. In all honesty, Hermione often felt as if her dad was severely disappointed in her because she was a witch, despite it being out of his control. He had always raised Hermione on the idea that she had the potential to do and be anything, but her being anything out of the ordinary had never crossed his pefectly average muggle mind. But if her dad knew that she was just kissed by a school bully whose reputation was far less than amicable, Hermione would never hear the end of it. He was far too protective of her, even though she could handle far more than he could ever comprehend. She had been in more danger the past five years than he could ever possibly experience from the extremely unexciting life of being a dental nurse. Hermione mentally slapped herself for the bitter thoughts that rudely entered her brain, before she lifted herself off of the cold hard ground that had reduced her lower half into a heavy bundle of pins and needles. Her body was craving the sweet, warm embrace only her mattress could provide.

****

Hermione stumbled clumsily out of bed, feeling the instant regret of drinking even the smallest amount like a huge hole in her head. She dressed herself like usual, scrunching her nose slightly as she caught an unfamiliar scent on her cardigan. It smelt strongly like cinnamon, almost like the cookies her Mum used to make her in the winter, despite her fathers protests on how bad they were for her teeth. She felt a sudden warmth when she thought about her parents, but it quickly subsided when Pansy cleared her throat, catching Hermione’s attention.

“Pansy…” Hermione began, feeling far too guilty already, before seeing the subtle bruise that covered her cheekbone. “Look Granger, I pushed you too far last night and i just want to apologise, alright?” Pansy raised her hands innocently, a trait common amongst the Slytherin students apparently. “I’m sorry for hitting you Pansy, I don’t know what happened but…” Hermione sighed, before outstretching her hand. Pansy placed her hand in hers and they shook politely, easing the tension almost immediately. “C'mon, lets go eat.” Pansy almost sang, turning to skip down the stairs to the common room, only stopping once to see whether or not Hermione was following.

Sceptically, she accepted the offer after grabbing her wand, tucking it up her sleeve just in case. The great hall was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, pancakes and melted butter, the very smell sent Hermione’s stomach into a loud grumble. She sank down in the seat just opposite Malfoy before she flicked through the Daily Prophet that landed in front of her from an owl overhead.

“Morning Granger.” Malfoy smirked as he snatched the Daily Prophet from her hands, flinching as he brushed his finger against the back of her hand. She ignored him and took a small bite out of her buttery toast. More owls began to enter the great hall by the dozen, large parcels attached to many of their scrawny legs and Hermione laughed as one particular owl began to fly off course, crashing into the Gryffindor table with a loud thump. She recalled the owl being called Erroll and it belonged to the Weasleys, which was blatantly obvious by it’s lack of intelligence.

Hermione told herself off immediately, recoiling instantly at how easily that insult came to her, despite her friendships with the Weasleys for the past five years.   
“Quit staring Granger, its disgusting.” Malfoy scowled, as Hermione found herself lost in thought, gazing over at the Gryffindor table. Harry looked more troubled than she had every seen him, and it left her feeling rather powerless to see him look so alone in his thoughts. “Granger.” Malfoy snapped once more, getting more and more wound up the more she ignored him. It made her feel powerful that he wanted her attention that much, that she continued to ignore him further, until he deliberately pushed her glass of orange juice over.

“What is your problem?!” She snapped, as she found herself becoming more and more furious as that foul grin spread across his face. “Sorry, my bad.” He smirked again.“Is it so hard to not be such a prick for one bloody minute, Malfoy?!” She shrieked, not giving a single care in the world about the people who had turned in their seats to listen in on their argument. “It’s a bloody glass of juice, Granger, get over it.” He snapped, taking a swig of his own juice, before the glass he held shattered in his hands, the juice inside narrowly missing his white shirt. She glared at him for a few more moments, before he raised his eyebrow towards her. Clearly this was some sort of game he was playing, he kissed her last night and now he was back to his old self. She sighed, before standing up, allowing her now empty glass to collide with the floor. Shards of glass fell in every direction, but she had already lost her temper and had stormed out of the great hall.

As she made her way to Defense Against The Dark Arts, Harry pulled her back into the closest alcove. “Blimey, Hermione. What has gotten into you?” He snapped, his brows furrowed as he inspected her face for any sign of change. “And why do you care suddenly?” Hermione snapped back, relaxing as he loosened his grip on her arm. “Because something bad is going down.” Was all he said before he glanced around. “Meet me in the library at 7, we’ll talk then.” He muttered, before he stormed off in the opposite direction.

By the time 7 o'clock had come around, Hermione was truly exhausted and didn't have it in her to put up with Harry’s pep talk. But luckily, Harry arrived exactly the same time she did, and they headed for the farthest table for a little bit of privacy. “Have you heard from your parents at all?” He asked, the concern lacing his words almost as if he was trying to work out how to play them. “Clearly you know that I haven’t.” Hermione shrugged, as she fiddled with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Look, i’m sorry we haven’t spoken in a few weeks, i just know something bad is happening Hermione, alright? I just know.” He met her gaze for a few seconds before averting it quickly to the hushed group of Gryffindors who stared at Harry as if he was the bane of their existence. “Nobody believes you then, huh? That he's returned, I mean.” Hermione smiled slightly, outstretching her hand to put on top of his, a friendly gesture, that he rejected immediately.   
“Clearly, you already know that.” Harry snapped, before he left the library, knocking over a large pile of books on his way out.

“You-know-who hasn’t returned. My ma said so herself. Harry’s a liar, you can’t trust him.” Seamus Finnigan called across from his table, where he sat side by side with Dean Thomas. If Hermione had cared, she would of pointed out how obvious it was that the two were holding hands under the table, but she shrugged before following after Harry. As she swung open the doors, she was met by a cheeky smirk from the blonde haired pest. “Off in a hurry Granger?” He muttered as she past him, ignoring him once again. She noticed that he was remarkably on his own and not followed by his usual cronies, and again, had she of cared, she might have confronted him. Instead, she tried to barge past him, only coming to a halt when his arm slithered across her waist, supporting her balance before she toppled over the edge of the moving staircase.

“Granger, you need to go.” Malfoy spoke slowly, the urgency in his words caused her to turn and face him. “I know. I’m going.” She sneered, peering at his obnoxious prefect badge that gleamed slightly under the intense candlelight. “No Granger, you don’t understand. You need to leave Hogwarts, now.” He whispered as a group of Ravenclaws shuffled past them, cowering slightly under Malfoy’s scrutinising glare. “Not bloody likely Malfoy. I have to study for my O.W.L.S and actually finish my education here before I leave.” She snapped again, wincing slightly as Malfoy tightened his grip. “Your grades are the least of your worries. I warned you.” He snarled back, before removing his arm and stalking off to the library to patrol.

She shook her head in frustration as she made her way down to the dungeons.   
“Granger, you need to come with me.” Snape barked, startling Hermione in the darkness. “Your parents are…well Miss Granger, they are in a fair bit of a trouble.” He didn’t look up to meet her gaze as she exhaled sharply, a crushing blow of fear striking her lungs and her stomach, as her heart sank in her chest. 

Snape held out his arm, his face was distorted into a near menacing smirk as he apparated them both out of Hogwarts and into a Victorian styled room, with an incredibly high ceiling and a fancy crystal chandelier. Snape disaparated then, as fast as he could, leaving Hermione to stumble forward slightly with the sickness that followed the allegedly forbidden way of travel. Across the room stood Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa. The pair looked incredibly sinister as their scrutinising, stern gaze washed over her, their hands intertwined. Hermione noticed the fear that crossed Narcissa's beautiful features before she promptly adjusted her features into a passive glare.

Hermione almost didn’t recognise the man who was kneeling on the floor, as he was covered in dirt and an awful lot of dried blood, which she prayed wasn't his. The sight was enough to make Hermione recoil, and she could feel a firm hand placed on her shoulder.  
“Well well well. What do we have here?” A woman cackled slightly, as she pushed Hermione forward, before grabbing her left wrist and turning it so Hermione faced her. Her nails were like claws, as she sunk them into Hermione’s skin, drawing small puddles of blood. She had a large mass of black curls, that seemed to grow out rather than down, but still reached her waist. Her face was twisted into a menacing half scowl and Hermione found herself staring at the rather stained, filthy, black and yellow teeth that filled her mouth at crooked angles when she sneered.

At first she had assumed that the woman who stood in-front of her was once upon a time, a rather beautiful young lady, but the warped almost vacant glare that smirked back at her made her insides crawl at the thought. She was deadly and dangerous, Hermione didn’t doubt that for a second. 

“Hermione Granger, the little mudblood. Correct?” She cackled again, her eyes flickering across the room as she did. “My dear nephew, Draco has a lot to say about you dearie.” She snarled, before hurling Hermione to the floor. She felt the sharp stinging pain in her ribs only after she sat up, watching as the clearly insane woman then grabbed a barely conscious man by his throat and thrust him into the wall behind him. The bottom half of his body had went limp, as the back of his head collided with the large stone bricks behind him.

Hermione was sure she had heard his skull fracture into many pieces, before she took a proper look at his face. The thin, nearly bald man that laid in front of her had a rather swollen face, with a bloodied, broken nose to match. She noticed that he wasn’t wearing his usual shirt and tie, in fact he looked rather casual, a look she hadn’t seen him wear for over ten years. She gasped slightly at the eventual recognition of her father, who was drifting in and out of consciousness.

He tried to smile weakly at the beady eyed, bushy haired girl who sat in front of him, but she looked no older than six years old. She was small for her age, she always had been until she reached her teenage years, but her intelligence was something that he was always so proud of. He could see her clearer now, as she sat by his side as he watched the television, her nose buried in a book of course. She remembered how he had once truly believed she would be the best muggle author out there, far before she was accepted into Hogwarts.

“Dad?” Hermione whispered, as the man stared up at her lovingly. “Hello princess.” He smiled weakly, before he was hit with a cruciatus curse, which sent him writhing in agony. Bellatrix kept casting the same spell every-time he appeared to resist. “Tell me about the prophecy.” She demanded, throwing curse after curse until he fell unconscious, slumping over onto the floor. His face was pale and blistering, his eyelids swollen nearly shut. Her own cries came from deep within her chest, rabid animal sounds that twisted into raspy, pathetic begs by the time they left her cracking lips.

“STOP IT! Please…you’re hurting him!” Hermione shrieked, her screaming plea drowned out by the sound of the witch laughing manically. “What do you know about the prophecy?” The witch snarled, before kicking Hermione in the ribs with the edge of her boot. “I don’t know anything, please! Let him go! I don’t know anything!” She began to cry again, the unwelcome tears falling down her face until they caressed her lips. The taste of salt and iron made her shudder, before she glared back at the woman in front of her. “YOU’RE LYING! YOU FILTHY MUDBLOOD, TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW!” She screamed, before sending another cruciatus curse out of her wand, but this time it was directed at Hermione.

The excruciating pain that wreaked havoc throughout her body and her mind was terrifying, she could feel the curse scorch every inch of her skin, and the veins and arteries underneath. The more she feared the next strike of pain, the harder it burned her insides. She shrieked and cried, convulsing on the marbled floor until the curse began to wear off, leaving her with only the harsh reminder of the agony it could cause if she couldn’t answer the question. She cried out, her face pressed harshly into the cold marble floor as Bellatrix pressed her elegant blade into her cheek, seething when Hermione's blood almost came in contact with her fingertips. She looked utterly disgusted as she spat, allowing her saliva to land against Hermione's eyelids.Darkness began to engulf her vision, a tremor of panic reverberated in her core. She was as good as dead, a lamb awaiting its enivitable slaughter. She warily opened her eyes, peering up and around to find some comfort, somebody who didn’t stare at her like she was filth on the bottom of their high class shoes. But no one met her eyes. They looked everywhere but her, allowing her to become a shrivelled, convulsing heap on the floor once again as another curse struck her from behind.

She winced as she laid eyes on her father, who was still unconscious across from her. She focused on the future, how he had promised her last Christmas how he would take her to Rome sometime, so she could see the beauty of Italy, just the pair of them. How he would dance with her at her wedding, cradle his grandchildren. She needed to focus on anything other than the present moment, she needed to find her own personal way to get through this pain. They had so much time left together, she was sure of it. 

“Avada Kedavra!” The wicked witch screamed, and Hermione waited, for death to embrace her in a grim grasp , but it never came. She saw the flash of emerald green light in the corner of her eye and sat up when she realised that the spell wasn’t directed at her. Her hands flew to her mouth immediately, as she let out a sob, her eyes resting on the corpse in front of her. “No…no no no no!” Hermione cried, running over to his lifeless, rigid body, despite the agonising after effects of the curses. She took his hand into hers, feeling the warmth of his skin for the last time. His eyes were unmoving but focused on her, and his face was no longer contorted in pain. If his eyes weren’t so haunting she could have pretended he was simply sleeping, like she had seen him so many times on his armchair, a newspaper on his lap and a lukewarm coffee on the arm. She allowed a strangled sob to escape from her mouth, despite how she had clamped it shut to avoid anymore hexes or curses that she knew she would inevitably face. She lifted her other hand to close his eyes, before she rocked back and forth on the spot. With every movement, she felt the blistering burns on her back bubble slightly.

“Itty. Bitty. Baby’s daddy is dead. Such a shame.” Bellatrix smirked before Narcissa began to plead with her. “Bella,” She took his eyes off of the unmoving man laid in front of his feet, only to avoid the sobbing, quivering girl who sat defenceless against everything around her. “Now now, Cissy… you wouldn’t want the Dark Lord doubting your loyalties now, would you? ” Bellatrix glared at her sister, before dragging her to stand infront of Hermione. “You know what to do.” She sneered, glaring into the girls watery chocolate brown eyes.

Lucius then stepped forward, pushing Narcissa behind him. “Look at me.” He snarled bitterly, as he tapped his cane down in front of her. She stared blankly at his shoes, distantly hearing her fathers voice in her mind. “Please…” she whispered. “Don’t touch my Mum, please. Let her live, and let her live happy, away from this. Obliviate her, don’t make her suffer from losing us. Then i will do whatever she wants. I will do whatever he wants. Just please…” she trailed off, the tears that flowed from her eyes coming to a halt.

“Do it Lucius. NOW!” Bellatrix screamed, before shoving him out of the way, seething at the sight of Hermione’s face. She lifted her wand and with a small flick, she placed it upon her own inner left forearm. Underneath the tip of her crooked wand was a dark tattoo, a skull with a snake protuding from it’s mouth, which slithered slightly beneath the force from the dark magic radiating from her wand. 

Hermione felt compelled to keep her eyes on the mark, disregarding the ‘pop’ sound that came from behind her. She was already aware of who exactly it was before Bellatrix bowed her head before him. His dark robes billowed around him as he walked forward, his hand outstretched to the Malfoy family who stood cowardly before him. Lucius kissed his hand, before bowing slightly, his cane thrust into his wife’s trembling hands. “Lucius, Bellatrix, Narcissa…oh, and who would this be?” He smiled entrancingly at the girl who sat in the centre of the room. He tenderly touched her hair, twirling the curls around his long, boney fingers. “The girl from the prophecy, my lord.” Bellatrix spoke clearly, her mouth a firm, thin line and her voice was lacking the usual snarling tone Hermione had become accustomed to over the past hour.

“Excellent work, Bella.” He turned on his heels, and lifted Hermione off of the floor into the air with a small flick of his wand, her feet barely grazing the floor beneath her. The air had left her lungs at such a speed she was sure she would have whiplash, but she said nothing and stared down at the bald, slightly grey skinned man before her, whose eyes were as dark red as blood and had vertical slits for nostrils. His face distinctly reminded her of a snake, a foul, evil snake that destroyed anything in its path. He smiled at her, his teeth yellowed and small compared to his greying gums and then he grinned wider. “You, will be my puppet.” he slowly drawled before he pressed the tip of his wand against into her left forearm. His face scrunched up with disgust as he saw her dried blood almost touching the end of his wand, before he silently cast the terrifying wordless spell, tarnishing her with an ugly black tattoo. Hermione felt the darkness invade her mind before she let out a blood curdling screech.


	5. The Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione rests at Malfoy manor.

When Hermione finally awoke, she was back in her Slytherin dormitory, laying in her recently assigned bed. Her left arm burned and itched in a way that left her feeling rather dizzy and disoriented, but still she stood, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floorboards. She felt erratic, but almost happy all the same, even if she shouldn't be.

The face of her dead father remained burned into her mind, but it was now a near distant memory that she could banish at will. He was just one man, in the midst of a raging war between muggles and the elite, the pure. Her life was spared that evening, and she was chosen especially, despite being a mudblood. She refused to stand and think for a second about what she sacrificed in order to stand there at that moment, but she felt truly powerful. She spat slightly, hissing at the fluffy ginger cat who curled up casually at the end of her bed. What an ugly beast she thought, before she stroked his tail.  
Maybe one day she'd own a beautiful boa constrictor, or even a gorgeous green python. Perhaps it needed more thought.

 

**********  
It was Christmas Eve and a good majority of the Slytherin students had headed home to their families for the holidays. Hermione however, stayed at Hogwarts that Christmas, alongside Pansy, Blaise, Theo and unfortunately Malfoy. Usually Hermione would be terribly excited, as if she was a young child again. However, the christmas cheer this year was significantly absent amongst the other feelings she had brewing up inside of her. She felt slightly unhinged, as if all she needed was a slight shove and she would explode, damaging everyone around her like a ticking time bomb. In truth it was rather thrilling, to have so much power bottled up inside of her, but she pushed those stray thoughts to the back of her head, enjoying the sound of her peers passing over their gifts to eachother, their bright, happy smiles created a domino effect, until Hermione was inevitabily smiling herself, despite it being ungenuine. 

When she was thrust a gift from Malfoy, who refused to meet her eyes as he did so, she laughed aloud slightly. Her fingers worked quick and near relentlessly as she peeled every inch of wrapping paper from the book she had once wanted. She muttered a small thank you, refusing to feel truly grateful until she opened the cover and she watched as a small receipt drifted down, covering the pristine pages. On the back of the Flourish and Blotts hand written receipt was a small note, which read "Merry Christmas Granger, from Santa" in a perfectly clear, cursive font in a beautiful silk like green ink. 

Hermione hadn't told anybody about her father's untimely demise other than her new head of house, but later that night when Hermione had gone to bed, she was caught off guard by a small package at the end of her bed. It was wrapped in the same green and silver paper that her only other present was, so she could only guess who had left it there. Inside, was a small journal sized book on how to cope with bereavement. Hermione cradled the book against her chest, and sobbed silently at the thoughtful gesture.

********** 

Christmas had passed by awfully slowly and Hermione refused point blank to leave the school, leaving her now widdowed mother to celebrate the freedom. As far as Mrs Granger was concerned, a tragic accident had occured killing both Hermione and her father. Hermione didn't care how selfish she seemed, as she finished her research in the library, it was far better for both of them this way. She began to leave the library rather exhausted by the lack of information the useless books held when she knocked shoulders with Ron Weasly. She shoved him back into the door, her wand raised defensively towards him. Inside her head she heard the dark lord calling out to her again, a matter she had unfortunately gotten used to over the past few days. He came and went as he pleased, instructing Hermione on exactly what to do, as she attempted to live life at Hogwarts as a new found Death Eater. It wasn't an easy task, having the Dark Lord control every natural instinct in her brain, manipulating it and warping it to his advantage, so when a firm grip on her shoulder tried to shake her back to reality, she was left seething at the missed opportunity to damage Ron as much as possible. Standing behind her dissaprovingly, was Malfoy. "She's gone bloody mental!" Ron panted, adjusting his robes and shirt from Hermione's sudden attack. Malfoy just nodded silently behind her, urging Ron to move away from her as quickly as possible with only the flick of his eyes. The redhead scurried away, his cheeks flushed with frustration and his eyes glossed with confusion.  
"Get your hands off of me, Malfoy, before I hex them off." She snapped, a spiteful grin forming on her lips before she stormed off, shoving a large pile of books that rested on the reception desk onto the floor as she left. 

Malfoy was left speechless, as he watched the witch shove herself forcefully through a crowd, tripping over a few new first years as she did so.   
If there was one thing that Draco knew for certain, it was that Hermione Granger was no longer inside her shell of a body. Instead a projection of the dark lord seeped out, something that nobody feared as much as they should have and truth be told, it frightened him.

**********

It was almost as if Hermione was back to her old self, she hadn't attacked anyone today and spent the majority of her time in the common room buried nose deep in her new hardback book. He took notice that he had yet to see her read the extra book he had gotten her, nor had he even received a thank you. 

Draco decided not to adress her on this though, and spent the rest of his evening patrolling the Hogwarts halls, stairs and classrooms for any signs that Harry Potter and his lot of friends were wreaking havoc amongst themselves. All he found in the end was Hermione, standing alone in the middle of the Great Hall. It was 10:30 at night and although the enchanted candles that illuminated the hall were still lit, students had been forbidden from leaving their dorms past 9pm, all thanks to Umbridge's new school rules.

"Granger?" He called, almost too softly. He had been near obsessed with her since that terrible day, when his aunt had escaped from Azkaban and branded her a Death Eater, something that chilled Draco to his very core, even though thankfully he didn't witness it. Of course he was rather exposed to any information about Death Eaters, as his mother and father were blinded by the loyality they gave The Dark Lord far before his birth. Draco was more than aware that he might have to become one himself when he was of age, despite Hermione only just being sixteen herself. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but he would oblige with minimal fuss if it kept his parents from harm.  
That was the position he was in unfortunately, and although he knew most people wouldn't understand it, Hermione definitely did.

In their fourth year, as the Death Eaters began their attack just after the Quidditch World cup, Draco had urged the girl to go into hiding for her own safety. He disguised it of course, as a cruel insult her never should have directed at her. Instead, she became the beautiful, distant girl who stood in front of him, haunted by the fact she was made to join them against her will.

"Oh, Malfoy." She spoke nonchalantly, her gaze never wavering from his, as her hazel orbs almost frosted at the sight of him. "Its past curfew Granger, you're going to-" He began, before she winced slightly and relaxed her jaw. He noticed how she did the same thing his Aunt did, whenever the Dark Lord was in her presence. Her jaw tensed and untensed as she found her thoughts once again. "I know. But there is something I have to do." She spoke again, yet this time there was no mistaking the deadly threat in her voice as she walked off, her wand held tight in her hand. 

"Fuck sake, Granger." He pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, before following her. She caught sight of him jogging to keep up with her over her shoulder before she stepped into the library, walking easily over to the restricted section and grabbing a hard, green leather wrapped book with an incredibly damaged, flimsy spine. Once upon a time, Hermione would have winced at the sight of the ancient book, but right now she cared very little for anything or anyone. She began flicking the old, torn and worn pages harshly and then dropped it loudly onto the table, the page she been searching for laid open in front of them both. "Horcruxes?!" Malfoy sounded alarmed, which made Hermione smirk in his direction. She couldn't say much more, in fear of the man who sometimes controlled her actions finding out that she had figured out his secret. She hoped Malfoy got the hint, before she levitated the book back to its original spot. "What?! He has..." he began to comprehend the message she tried to convey, but with a small flick of her wand, she silenced him and gave him a stern look. A warning. 

She stalked off again then, and that was the last time Malfoy saw her until after the new year.

In truth, Hermione needed to do the Dark lords bidding, a task which she could not fail, her mothers life depended on it. She had to find the prophecy Voldermort had only heard rumours about, before Harry and his little army did. The task that laid at hand was tricky for even the most experienced Death Eaters and it needed a large but substantial amount of planning and preparation. Hermione knew she was surrounded by the best people for that task. Bellatrix sat parallel from her, using her crooked wand to etch heavily into the parchment in the centre of the table. She drew up a childish looking map, and listed all the ways they could infiltrate the Ministry, to find the singular prophecy within the Department of Mysteries. 

 

The lack of emotion Hermione felt was oddly satisfying as she left the table just after Lucius and she was oddly yet pleasantly surprised when he had waited for her just outside of the door. "Miss Granger, how wonderful." He grimaced, before outstretching his arm in her general direction. She placed a firm grip on his wrist, allowing the pair of them to apparate successfully from the Riddle house, their head quarters, to the Malfoy Manor with a faint pop.

Hermione's found herself falling towards the floor with a spiralling motion, the food she had graciously wolfed down before the meeting threatening to make a reappearance upon the Malfoy's expensive black marble floor. Hermione choked slightly, forcing herself to stand despite the way the world shook and span out of control. She stood there almost silently, waiting for a scolding from Lucius before he put an almost reassuring hand upon her shoulder. "Get used to it." Was all he said bitterly, before using his cane to point to a room at the end of the hall. "That's Draco's room, it's the only room we have to offer right now so try not to taint it." He grimaced once more before he stormed off, clearly pissed off that he had to open up his home to her of all people.

Hermione didn't care for hospitality, She just wanted somewhere to sleep. She pressed her palm flat against the corridor wall, guiding herself to the end of the hall before she reached the wooden door that led to her once worst enemies room. She thought to knock out of sheer politeness, but quickly realised that the owner of the room was still in school, where she should be.

She pushed the door open with the toe of her thick, dragon hide boots, ignoring the chill that washed over her. His room was perfectly average, specks of green and silver glittered in her peripheral vision. Perhaps once this room contained more clues to Draco's childhood, but now it was basically baron, despite a large bookshelf filled to the brim with fiction novels written by several different pureblood witches and wizards. Hermione found herself tracing her index finger over each individual spine of the books, before she wrenched her hand back in slight pain. "Stupid girl. We must not touch what isn't ours." She heard him speak, before turning around to face the slightly ajar door. 

To her surpise, she was completely alone. She dragged her fingers through the knotted curls at the back of her head, a consequence off not having a decent place to sleep the past few days, before she headed over to the king sized bed that laid in the middle of the room, with freshly laundered sheets and plumped pillows. This was far better than the sofa's she had found herself sleeping on before.   
The dirt beneath her now long fingernails were the main contributing factor that pushed her to get a shower and it was at that precise point she heard a faint cough from behind the door. 

It swung open slightly as she took note of the young man who strolled through casually. "Granger." He nodded as a hello, before he offered out a small pile of green towels. "Mother thought you might want a shower so she freshly cleaned them for you." He looked terribly uncomfortable as she took the towels from him, carefully, so that neither of them actually touched eachother. She watched as he discreetly blew his white-blonde fringe out of his eyes before he pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. "I thought you were at school?" She tried to smile, but it came out as a sneer, which made Draco chuckle to himself. "I was. Now I'm not." He shrugged before he flung himself onto his bed, not so gracefully, adjusting his position as he landed so he didn't fall.   
"Whatever. Can I shower?" She asked, her voice was as flat as her attitude at this point. She was exhausted, all she wanted was to curl up into a ball and sleep the next few days away before she had to meet again with the others back at the Riddle house, but now with Malfoy here to annoy her, it was probable that she would be sleeping on the cold, hard floor tonight. With another shrug from Malfoy, She headed into his ensuite, despite never having been in his room before tonight. In fact, minutes ago she hadn't a clue where the bathroom was, let alone that he had an ensuite.

She peeled her slightly damp clothes from her skin, allowing the water of the far too fancy shower to heat up as she did so. When the steam began to curl around the large mirror above the sink basin, she stepped in, allowing the hot cascade of water to wash away the filth and grime that had inevitably covered every inch of her. She scrubbed viciously at the dark tattoo on her arm with a spongeful of sweet honey soap, wincing as it stung beneath her heavy touch despite it being weeks old now. The water that had gathered by her feet was now a murky mix of brown and soap suds and she felt her shoulder pain ease the longer she stood still, allowing the stream of water to unknot the tense, tender muscles. It was almost like a mini massage and she relished in the pain relief as long as she could, before she turned to wash her matted hair with a large handful of shampoo and conditioner.

When she finally emerged from the shower, it took her several minutes to realise she didnt actual have any clothes to change into, other than her filthy attire that she was sure a quick 'scourgify' wouldn't even fix. Crap. A small knock echoed within the bathroom as Draco called out, "Hurry up in there Granger, you're not the only one who needs a shower." He grunted as she pushed the door open, her bundle of clothes in her arms with only a small towel wrapped around her torso, barely covering her and she shivered slightly as she barged her way past him. "There." She muttered, as she dumped her clothes into the designated washing bag beside the door.

"There's some..um..clothes on the bed." He grunted once again, but this time Hermione felt his gaze burning upon her left forearm, and she quickly attempted to cover it, by pressing it harshly against her side. "Take a picture Malfoy, it lasts longer." She snapped, feeling her cheeks flush with shame before she turned away from him, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I wasn't judging you, I was just looking." He spoke far too softly, and Hermione rolled her eyes furiously. "Well don't." She snapped as she dropped her towel, ignoring the fact she was clearly stark naked before a guy who used to be her worst enemy. She quickly grabbed the first item of clothing left in a pile on the her, rather relieved to discover it was simply a large black cotton t-shirt that covered her from her shoulders to mid thigh. As she stretched and pulled the shirt over her head, She heard the slam of the bathroom door behind her.

For what couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, Hermione felt safe. She was cocooned from the outside world as she wrapped the thick, slightly musty duvet around her shoulders, ignoring the painful protest her muscles gave in response. She held herself still for a few seconds, listening out for the sound of movement from the ensuite and she flinched involuntarily as the door swung open, revealing Draco Malfoy in nothing but a towel wrapped far too loosely around his hips.

She pursed her lips slightly, scolding herself internally as she washed her gaze over his perfectly sculpted muscles, momentarily forgetting that they were both only fifteen and were also mortal enemies only four months ago. He sighed slightly as he pointed his index finger at her, twirling it as an instruction to turn around. She scoffed before she happily obliged, realising only now that she was sat in Draco Malfoy's bed, wrapped in his duvet and dressed in his clothes.

She felt ridiculous. She had no doubt in her mind that if Pansy ever found out about this, She most certainly would be hexed into oblivion. A small yet obvious clearing of his throat brought Hermione back to the present. "I don't usually allow anyone in my bedroom, let alone my bed y'know." He chuckled lightly before he got into bed beside her. She could smell his aftershave and the smell of his honey soap radiating off of him as his eyes fluttered shut. His breaths were shallow and she knew he was pretending to be asleep, but he still peeked through his long lashes at her when she adjusted her position to get comfy. "It's been a few days since I've slept in an actual bed." Hermione confessed, almost breathless from the close proximity with Draco. 

He chuckled again, before blurting out rather stupidly, "yeah, life as a Death Eater sounds rather hard." He clamped his lips shut, watching as Hermione visibly flinched a few inches away from him as he uttered the vile words. "Don't call me that!" She whispered harshly, feeling her mind begin to fog with the all too familiar presence of the Dark Lord in her mind.

"Ashamed? Well isn't that unfortunate." He uttered in her mind, his dark, horrifying cackle rattling inside of her brain, causing her own thoughts to be cast aside again. She didn't dare speak back to him, because she knew the inevitable insult that would follow would only bring her to the brink of tears. Since that night her father was murdered, She refused to cry. 

"Hey, hey!" Draco snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, but she found herself unable to speak. Instead, she stared lifelessly at the ceiling. He clamped his mouth shut once again, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he rolled on his side, hoping to fall asleep before he got yelled at further. Girls were so confusing, especially when they were Death Eaters.

It was around 3am when she finally spoke again, although it was more of a shriek than a coherent sentence. Draco fumbled roughly to restrain her as she thrashed and writhed against the mattress, her eyes were wide open, a now charcoal black and they were glaring at a presence he couldn't see. "Sssh!" He hissed, pressing his palm flat against her mouth so that her pain filled wails silenced almost immediately, until her eyes softened into a warm, whiskey brown.

He felt her tongue brush briskly against his palm and he recoiled at the feeling. A small snicker left her mouth at his reaction before she smiled warmly, almost as if that whole episode had never happened. All Draco could comprehend was that underneath Hermione's bossy and stone cold exterior, she was suffering inside, even if she didnt admit it. He yawned and grumbled, as he unconsciously outstretched his arm, an offer Hermione graciously took as she snuggled into his bare chest. She was far too sleepy to worry about the consequences and just when she was finally drifting into a deep sleep, she swore she could feel the pressure of his lips press against her forehead again. 

Despite everything she had grown to believe about Draco, she was starting to grow rather fond of him. She sighed contently, as a small smile graced his lips and he pressed her closer to his chest before the pair fell asleep.


End file.
